


Yellow Brick Road

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Class Differences, Community Service, Community: oz_wishing_well, Flirting, Fooling Around, Forests, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Oz Free For All, Therapy, Truth or Dare, Wordcount: Over 10.000, juvenile delinquents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-15
Updated: 2009-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby meets Chris via community service.  It's hate at first sight.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Brick Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozsaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/gifts).



> Written for ozsaur at [the Oz Free for All challenge](http://trillingstar.livejournal.com/96587.html) on [oz_wishing_well](http://oz_wishing_well.livejournal.com). I tried something new with the timeline. And released a movie about ten years early. 
> 
> Thank you to illusionaltzu, colleendetroit, and beechercreature.  
> 

**Day 7**

 

They're running through the woods at top speed, slipping on wet leaves and knocking their shins against fallen branches, stopping only when they reach the low stone wall.

"Do you see her anywhere?" Chris pants, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Toby leans against a tree trunk and scans their surroundings. "Uh uh," he gasps.

"Good." Chris grins at him, extending his hand. "C'mon."

Toby grabs it eagerly, and Chris pulls him further into the brush.

Rain drips from the leaves high above them, and Toby shivers as a few drops splash on the top of his head. Closing his eyes, he shoves into Keller, sending them both back against the wall, and then they're kissing, the heat from Chris's mouth warming his whole body. Toby moans open-mouthed when Chris moves down to lick patterns on his neck, and then tugs Chris's hair urgently.

"Hurry," Toby breathes out. "Have to- we have to hurry."

Flipping them around, Chris steadies himself, one hand on the wall and his arm resting on Toby's shoulder. He goes back to nuzzling Toby's neck, breathing in the crisp, cool scent of him, lips wandering up to nibble on his earlobe. Both of Toby's hands wander up Chris's shirt, his fingers burning hot against Chris's damp skin. Toby's heart pounds, the beat elevated because of adrenaline and the race through the forest, but mostly because of the man in his arms right now, and the anticipation liquefying his insides.

Chris's hand strokes the bulge in Toby's jeans. Reluctantly, Toby stops kneading the muscles in Chris's back and returns the favor, the growly gasp of hot air against his cheek reminding him why this is a better use of his hand. His other hand slips down below the waist of Chris's pants to cup one firm cheek. Toby sighs happily.

A chuckle. "Somethin' you wanna share with the class, Tobe?"

"Nope." He shakes his head. "You're the only person I want to share this with."

Deftly, Chris unbuttons Toby's jeans, then nudges aside his boxers and pulls his cock out. Toby moans again, Chris's hand is cool against the taut skin of his hard dick.

"Do me," Chris says, and Toby drops to his knees, his hands settling on Chris's thighs, and attacks the top button with his teeth.

Chris widens his stance reflexively, fingers threading through Toby's hair. "We, you, we don't have time. Toby," he says, his voice breaking.

Already, Toby's pushed Chris's jeans down low on his hips, and he's mouthing at Chris's dick through his boxers, breathing hotly through the cotton, letting his lips trace the outline of the head. Chris smells smoky, not like cigarettes, but like – chipotle, maybe. Toby remembers the flavor from spring break in Mexico – peppery with a long, slow burn. Toby knows Chris is right – they _don't_ have time, but still, his mouth waters for a taste of fire blazing its way down his throat.

He tugs Chris's boxers down as he stands up. His cock drags against Chris's as he rights himself, sending a shiver through both of their bodies. They end up supporting each other: foreheads resting on one another's shoulders; hands stroking furiously, wrists twisting; Chris's hand curled around the base of Toby's skull; Toby's palm flat on Chris's chest. Toby moves his hand down to play with Chris's balls, and Chris lifts his head, biting at Toby's shoulder, and then mirrors Toby's actions. They're swiveling their hips, rocking forward, the air between them filled with breathy moans and _please yes_ when they hear someone – or thing – moving through the brush nearby. Toby stiffens, and they both freeze in place, trying not to move, not to breathe too loudly, and straining to hear.

The forest seems unnaturally quiet. They're standing as still as possible, completely on edge, when Chris swipes his thumb across the head of Toby's cock. Toby jumps in surprise, narrowing his eyes at Chris.

Eyes sparkling mischievously, Chris grins, dimples pushed deep into his face. Toby shakes his head, conveying a firm warning, but Chris doesn't stop rubbing back and forth. Toby's legs tremble from the effort of trying not to move, breathe, or cry out.

Whatever's crashing around in the woods moves away, and they both release long sighs of relief. Toby glares at Chris, whispers, "You cocksucker," and then returns his attention to getting Chris off.

"Later, baby, I will," Chris says, licking the palm of his hand and then wrapping his fist around Toby's dick. The hint of wet slide that his spit provides makes Toby come, thoughts of Chris on his knees in the dirt, staring down at Chris's upturned face, how he'll open his throat for Toby's cock, and the heat of Chris's mouth.

"That's it, sexy, show me, love watching you," Chris murmurs, licking his lips.

Toby's orgasm crashes around him and then lifts him back up. As he starts to float down, he squeezes Chris's balls and strokes him hard. Angling his head to the side, Toby sucks a hickey onto Chris's neck, his teeth scraping over stubble. Chris's body shifts, almost as though he's trying to move away, and then he's pushing forward furiously into Toby's fist. Toby's dimly aware that the noise is back. It sounds like someone's walking directly toward them, but it's too late, and Chris throws his head back and yells.

"Jesus Christ, Keller," Toby says. His limbs feel leaden, and he leans heavily onto Chris, letting him take their weight.

"Mmmm, Toby," Chris purrs, and they've just finished tucking each other away and straightening their shirts when Ronnie comes bounding around the corner, his hair sticking out and his eyes wide.

"Chris! You guys! Howler's on the warpath looking for you, come on!"

* * *

**Day 2**

"Didja trade clothes with your gardener today?" Keller sneers at him. He's standing in the aisle of the bus, one hand on the dark green vinyl seat. Toby's already snagged the window seat.

Toby looks up. "No, I raided your closet last night," he fires back. He's satisfied that his barb hits home when he sees Keller's jaw clench.

"Sit, Keller!" Howell orders from the front of the bus. "You're holding up the line."

Scowling, Keller slides into the seat next to Toby. Someone in the back of the bus yells, "Good doggie!" Keller crosses his arms over his chest and his body falls into a pose of relaxation. Toby knows it's a pose because he saw Keller do the exact same thing yesterday, only to uncoil like a spring and lash out when someone got too close. This is not a guy he should taunt, but Keller's so goddamned annoying that Toby can't filter his words.

Yesterday, the day began with McManus's introduction to the program meant to change their lives. Then there was an hour-long bus ride to the site, and the next six hours spent tramping around outside of an elementary school, washing graffiti from the walls and picking up seriously nasty trash.

Keller ragged on him for hours, with remarks about Toby's clothing, his haircut, his choice of college, and how quickly Toby's skin reddened in the hot glare of the sun. Toby gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his obnoxious partner, but after three hours of near-constant babbling in his ear, he snapped. Rounding on Keller, he yelled, "Fine! I can't dress myself, my hair looks shitty, my school sucks, and I'm the world's most horrible person. You've made yourself clear, okay? Can you stop now? Do you think you can do that?" He brandished the paintbrush at Keller threateningly.

Keller stepped back, his eyes wide, and then he grinned hollowly at Toby. "Glad you were listening, Beech."

Ignoring the hated nickname, Toby enjoyed several minutes of silence as they worked side by side, and then Keller started again, this time on Beecher's pedigree and choice in women, which he clearly knew nothing about, but had a grand old time guessing. The only break from Keller's incessant barrage of insults was the lunch hour, when Toby sat at a picnic table with Adam and groaned about the shitty job assignment.

He could see Keller, sitting under a tree next to a chubby kid – Barlog, Toby thought. Keller called him Ronnie, and it was obvious from their banter that the two were pals. They shared a cigarette, both keeping an eye out for guards. McManus said they were mentors, but regardless of what he called them, they were guards. Toby had to chuckle at the surreal situation, and too soon, it was time to split back up into their pairings. Toby looked longingly at Goodson Truman, who did his work carefully and silently. He sighed deeply.

"You a little worn out, there, Beecher? A real man's work too much for ya?" Keller again, buzzing in his ear.

"Jesus Christ, Keller, don't you ever shut the fuck up?" Toby blurted out. He stood his ground as Keller's eyes narrowed.

Keller's friend, Barlog, was nearby. He answered. "Only when his mouth's fulla somethin' else!"

Keller turned on Ronnie, pointing a finger at him, and then made a quick slashing motion across his throat.

Toby snickered. Keller's head swiveled and this time Toby could easily make out the fire in Keller's eyes.

Keller advanced. "Fuckin' snot-nosed rich kid!" He spat out.

Toby stood tall. "Shit-for-brains low-class _thug_," he shot back.

They were almost nose-to-nose, and the air between them crackled with tension. Toby heard Barlog talking in the background, but his attention was only for Keller.

Toby doesn't know what could have happened after that, because Riviera blew his whistle and everyone filed onto the bus. Keller didn't look at him again, and Toby's hands gradually unclenched from fists and his breathing returned to normal.

~

They're at the same job site today, and while they wait for Mineo's instructions, Toby smears sunscreen onto his face and waits for Keller to comment.

As if waiting for his cue, Keller says, "Your pretty porcelain skin, all rough and red." Fake sympathy drips from his voice.

Toby dressed for the job today – jeans, boots and a t-shirt. He remembered sunscreen and a cap, because damned if he's going to burn all summer.

"You should use some," he says.

"Nah," Keller drawls. "I already got my tan." He strips off his muscle shirt, and Toby sees that Keller's tan all over, even where his jeans dip low, as if he's been laying out naked in Aruba for the past week. Looking at his own pale skin, un-sculpted chest and abs covered by his t-shirt, Toby grimaces. He's irrationally jealous, which is assuredly why he ogles the prominent muscles in Keller's body from beneath his eyelashes.

Cocking his head, Keller smiles at him. The sun is blindingly bright behind him, and Toby's dazzled enough that for a brief second, he smiles back.

The smile falls off his face when Keller saunters over and says, "Take a picture; it'd last longer."

Toby's lips curl into a sneer, and he starts to respond with a cutting remark, and then adjusts his strategy. Maybe if he can make Keller uncomfortable enough, he'll stay away. "Got a camera?" he asks brazenly, plastering a confident smile on his face. It's heartening to see a flicker of confusion register in Keller's eyes, and then his expression shutters and Toby feels like he's meeting Chris again for the first time.

"I don't got nothing for you," Keller says, pushing past Toby, and heading for the tool bin.

~

It's a strange feeling of victory when Keller's quiet for the rest of the morning, and Toby _almost_ misses the constant chatter in his ear, even though the previous conversation focused on his presumed faults. Still, it's unsettling, going from continuous hectoring to silence, and Toby restrains himself from filling the quiet with his own voice. Finally, he's able to fall into the monotony of his task, stopping when Mineo blows the lunch whistle.

In line to pick up his bologna sandwich and cheap fruit drink, Toby studies the backs of his hands. He'll remember to bring heavier work gloves tomorrow.

"Toby, right?" A voice in his left ear.

Whirling around, Toby sees Ronnie Barlog, who stands almost to Toby's chin, his dark hair messy and an unremittingly pleading look on his baby face.

He continues. "We just stole a car. No big deal, you know? But he wasn't happy with just stealing it, I mean; we had to do stuff with it." He laughs, and then notes the look on Toby's face. "Nothing serious," he adds. "Hey, that was cool yesterday, you and him, that… thing."

Toby raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"I thought you guys were gonna throw down, wrestle, you know, _fight_. Didn't peg you for a fighter." He grins at Toby, and the hangdog look melts into an expression belonging on the face of a much older man. "Good to know."

Howell's shoving a bag lunch into Toby's hands before he can formulate a response, and as he's walking away, he turns and watches Barlog settling sleekly back into line near Keller, and Keller's brow twists, glaring, first at Ronnie and then at Toby.

* * *

**Day 5**

It's a different site today, woods with denser foliage, which forces them to hike in further. Toby's so engrossed in following the lines of the branches overhead that he walks into a tree, and Keller throws his head back and laughs. But it's while he's on the ground that Toby notices that stone wall. He crawls alongside it to see where it goes, and Keller follows.

It was probably part of a barn or storage shed – but the structure's long gone, leaving only one wall, the dirt floor, and a few skeletal beams charred by fire. They throw each other gleeful, victorious smiles at the discovery.

Toby settles down with his back against the wall while Keller scouts around.

"We're gonna want to find this place again," he says before disappearing into the trees.

Toby nods amiably. He closes his eyes. It's not even their day to be in the forest, but two shitheads actually tried to escape from the site last Friday. They all had to stand around and wait while Howell and Riviera combed the woods, and Toby was hours late getting home.

~

They drag two stumps to lean against behind the wall of the crumbling structure. Already there's a wide, flat rock pushed into the dirt that can serve as a table. Keller fishes a worn pack of cards from his pocket, and they use twigs as currency.

Toby gloats about his bigger pile of twigs until Chris gives him a look that clearly says he's letting Toby win. They play in silence until Toby feels bored.

Keller reaches and plucks something from Toby's t-shirt. "Lint," he says innocently. "Let's play strip poker."

Toby's head jerks up. The spot on his chest where Keller's fingers touched him tingles, and suddenly he feels out of his league. "Um," he says cautiously.

"No? You wanna get straight to it?" Keller's stare bores into Toby.

"Straight to it?" Toby parrots nervously.

"'Kay, how 'bout Truth or Dare?" Keller crosses his legs at the ankle, slouching further down the stump.

"Okay," Toby replies slowly. "Straight to what?"

Keller beams, the grin flashing across his face. "Streaking! Ain't that what you college boys do in your spare time? Not like we can go on a panty raid, 'less you wanna see what Howler's packing under her polyester pants."

Toby shivers in disgust. "No thanks!"

Chris nods his head. "Exactly. She probably goes commando. Free fall, let those suckers swing in the wind."

Toby bursts out laughing. "You are one sick individual."

Keller smiles. "I get that sometimes." A pause. "Okay, I'll go first. Truth or dare?"

Settling back against his stump, Toby shakes his head, smiling. "Truth."

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" Keller rubs his hands together.

Toby stops smiling. He presses his lips together. "Chris…"

"What? I'm supposed to go easy on you 'cause you're queer?" He's not joking, but neither is the question unkind.

Forehead wrinkling, Toby draws his legs up and crosses them Indian-style. He stares at his pile of twigs. "No. That's not. That doesn't have anything to do with it. You don't have to go easy or hard or-" He cuts off. He looks up at Keller. "I can think of two."

"Give me one, Beecher."

Toby hesitates. Which is worse – his innocence behind the assignation to community service, or what happened with Gen? Gen, absolutely. But is he ready to share that with Keller?

In a quiet voice, he begins. "I lied to Gen. I used my best friend for my own gain. Sometimes I'm surprised she even still talks to me." He looks up at Chris's face. "I don't deserve her friendship."

Keller studies his face for a minute, and then says, "I use my best friend for my own gain all the time, Toby. 'S why we're both here." He smiles wryly.

Toby closes his eyes. "It's different. It's different because-"

"-she's a girl," Chris finishes. "How'd you fuck it up?"

A tight smile. "I believe it's my turn now."

Keller nods.

"Truth or-" Toby starts. He already knows what he wants to ask.

"Dare," Keller interrupts, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

"Oh." Toby's at a loss. He hasn't played this game in years. "Uh."

Chris's smile is patronizing. It stings.

Toby curls his lip. "I dare you to find out exactly what Howler's packing beneath her polyester pants."

Keller's mouth falls open a little and he regards Toby with an impressed air. "Okay," he says, standing up.

"Where - you're going to do it right now?" Toby's bewildered.

"You got a better time?" Keller scratches his stomach.

"Yeah, actually. I do. Mark it an IOU. You leave now and I'll be more bored than before." He looks forlornly at his twig pile.

"An IOU." Keller mulls it over. "You know I'm gonna do it," he states confidently.

"Yeah, I know." Toby smiles.

"Okay." Keller drops to the dirt floor again, sprawling, his legs open. "Okay, Toby, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Toby responds. He ignores Chris's eye roll.

"How'd you fuck it up?"

Toby groans. Obviously, Keller isn't ready to let that line of questioning slide. "I told her I loved her," Toby says. His face is pinched; his eyes squeezed shut as if anticipating a tree toppling onto him via God's destructive hand.

"Real end of the world stuff, Toby." Chris looks at him.

Toby's eyes open. Chris just said his name. He clears his throat. "I mean, I said I was in love with her when I wasn't." He plays with his shoelaces to avoid Chris's stare.

"You got an interesting idea of the worst thing ever," Chris says. His expression belies his words.

Toby thinks that Keller gets it. His confession comes out in a rush; he hasn't told anyone else. "She – I already knew I liked guys. We were drunk, whatever. A party on the beach, up at the Cape for the summer. We fooled around. And then she said she was in love with me and how did I feel and I – I don't know. I had this feeling, like I could be normal, I could do it, I could fake it all. Wife, kids, station wagon, Golden Retriever. I mean, she felt good. I liked sex with her. And I love her."

He gives Keller a wry look. "So I said I felt the same way and we fucked around for the rest of the summer, only I was also fucking around with a couple other guys. Over Labor Day weekend I hooked up with this guy at the club, one of the pool guys, someone she'd seen around all summer, and I did it where I knew she'd see."

He takes a breath, the story winding down to the conclusion he despises but cannot change. "I broke her heart, and I didn't even care. I was free and… and she said later that she knew all along and she could tell I wasn't into it, but I don't know. It's not like I'd interrogate her on that."

Toby looks at Chris to gauge his reaction.

"You're still friends?" Chris asks.

"Of course. Best friends," Toby replies.

"Unbelievable," Keller mutters.

Toby prickles, glaring at Keller. "Why do you say that?"

Keller looks at him as if he thinks Toby's trying to fool him. "Girls don't forget, man. They forgive, but they make you pay for it forever."

"Bitter much?" Toby sneers.

Chris glances at Toby, and then follows it with an intense, searching look. "Nah. I like girls just fine – a _lot_," he stresses. "Guys are – easier." A sly grin. "In more ways than one." The grin lasts.

The queasiness over his actions toward Gen fades and Toby finds an easy smile stretching his lips. "Truth or-"

"Dare!" Keller interrupts again.

Sighing, Toby searches for something to force Keller to do. What he wants to say, what he's thought about today – no, he can't, not yet. Keller's no homophobe, but – he likes girls, he just said so. He was teasing about guys, right? Picking on him. That's all it was.

"Eat a bug," he blurts out.

"What?" Keller looks at him as if he's speaking in tongues.

Toby shrugs. "Eat a bug," he repeats confidently, a smirk on his face.

Chris narrows his eyes. "Okay." He holds out his hand, palm up. "Where's the bug you want me to–" He slides his tongue over his upper lip. "Eat?"

Toby blinks. "I don't know. You find it."

Keller crosses his arms over his chest. "No way. The dare's to eat it, not _catch_ it. You find it."

Looking over the ground, Toby spies a daddy long legs meandering across the leaves. He points at it. "There."

"That's a spider, not an insect." Keller shakes his head.

Toby cuts his eyes at Chris.

Keller chuckles. "You're the one who made the dare."

Toby huffs out a breath in exasperation. He gets up and brushes dirt off his jeans, and then Keller stands too, coming forward, obligingly brushing his hand over Toby's neck and down his back.

Toby jerks away reflexively, sending Chris a puzzled look, but Keller only shrugs. "Dirty. Where's my bug?"

Spotting a medium-sized brown beetle clambering its way across the leaves, Toby picks it up gingerly.

They study it together.

"Looks tasty," Keller says. "Like you."

Toby looks at Chris again, a question on his face, but Keller turns away. He scoops the bug up into his mouth. Toby watches his jaw move as he chews and the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallows. "Yum," he jokes.

"I can't believe you just ate that," Toby says. To some people bugs might be delicacies, but not as far as Toby's concerned.

They're standing at a right angle - if Toby turns his head to the left, he'd see Keller standing an arm's length away. Instead, he looks straight ahead, gazing out at the trees.

Keller brushes his hand across the knob of Toby's shoulder, then down his arm before settling on his side, above his hip. Toby tenses, though in anticipation, not fear.

"Truth or dare?" Keller asks.

"We're still playing? Okay, truth." Toby answers. He jams his hands into his pockets.

Chris doesn't move his hand from Toby's hip. His voice is just above a whisper. "Did you think about me this weekend?"

Toby squeezes his eyes shut. "Yes," he confesses.

Keller moves closer, and Toby can feel the heat of his body emanating through their t-shirts.

"When?" Keller whispers.

Toby hesitates.

"When?" Keller asks again.

"At night," Toby says.

Keller's lips brush Toby's ear. "Why?"

Toby can smell Chris - the detergent on his clothes, his aftershave and his sweat, something alluring and sexy. It's easier to answer the question since he doesn't have to face Keller.

"I wanted to." He stops; it's all he can say. He ducks his head down, looks back up. "My turn."

"Truth," Chris says. He pulls his hand from Toby's side.

Toby's surprised. "Did- did you-?"

He's answered instantly. "Yes."

Toby trembles.

"Thought about you a lot." Chris's voice is dark, throaty. "Truth or dare, Toby?"

"Dare," Toby answers softly.

"Kiss me."

Toby turns to see Chris waiting for him, his eyes closed, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and his body relaxed. Toby skims his knuckles down the side of Chris's face and over his cheek. Grazing his thumb over Chris's lips, he parts them with a tiny sigh. Toby's transfixed, and Chris's eyelids flutter as if on cue, his long, dark lashes drawing Toby's gaze. Toby brushes a soft kiss across Chris's mouth and the feeling is electric, tingling through his own lips, followed closely by the powerful kick of adrenaline. He leans in again, gently, and their kiss is a sweet caress, awakening nerve endings and sweeping through his body like a brush fire. Kissing Chris is intoxicating. It's a level of intensity he's unfamiliar with - it's the fastest luge tracks, a full ride to Harvard Law, and eighteen straight hole-in-ones all rolled into something limitless and amazing.

He makes a pleased sound, drawing back in surprise to find Keller regarding him as if seeing him clearly, as if Toby's a valuable treasure, something to cherish and enjoy. Chris slides one warm hand up the side of Toby's neck and around to the back, pulling him in for another kiss, a satisfied hum vibrating from his throat.

Slowly, Keller drags his hand from cupping Toby's nape to the curve of Toby's collarbone and then down his chest, across the bump of his nipple, continuing down his stomach and finally hooking his fingers into the belt loops on Toby's jeans. They smile stupidly at each other. Tugging Toby closer, Chris steps forward, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

Toby feels giddy. "More lint?" He asks flirtatiously.

"You're covered in it," Keller murmurs.

~

The ride back to the center is long, but Toby doesn't care. Sitting by the window as usual, he watches, amused, as Keller settles a heavy look on each person who looks at him too long.

Keller falls against him every time the bus turns a corner, his warmth and weight mashing Toby against the window but he'll never complain.

Toby brushes his fingers along the side of Chris's thigh. "Oh, sorry," he says falsely.

Chris looks at him sideways. His hand falls naturally to the seat between them, so Toby runs a finger over the back of Chris's hand. Keller sits up straight and peels off his sweatshirt. The earthy smell of grass and sweat pervades Toby's nostrils and he leans lightly against Chris's shoulder, trying to convey lust through the movement. Keller bunches up his sweatshirt, resting it on his lap, hiding their hands from curious eyes.

Time goes by slowly and the trip passes quietly. Toby holds back a groan when their fingers slide together, the calluses on Keller's fingertips meeting Toby's warm skin, caressing and stroking. Toby draws patterns on Chris's palm, the near-ticklish feeling erotic and Chris retaliates by using his nails to nip at the soft skin on Toby's inner wrist. The teasing makes Toby hard and he reaches to adjust himself in his jeans, letting his thumb follow the seam of his zipper.

"Yeah," Keller says so quietly that the word isn't more than an exhalation, a hard breath of need. His fingers jerk and he digs them into the vinyl seat.

Toby clears his throat. "It's... hot tonight."

Keller nods. "Yep. This is some kinda heat wave I'm feeling."

"I guess I'll go swimming," Toby says.

Keller turns his head to look at him and Toby ogles Chris's mouth. He wants to kiss him so badly that he has to look somewhere else, and ends up staring into Chris's seductive eyes.

"Where do you swim?" Chris asks in a completely normal voice, as if he's not radiating desire and want.

"Uh, tonight. I'll swim." He rips his gaze away. "Oh, we- I mean, my parents have a pool. There's one on campus, but I'm going there- home."

Chris laughs.

"To visit my folks, for the weekend," Toby clarifies.

"You go out when you get there? Or later on, when it's dark and no one's around?" His tongue sticks out past his upper lip.

"You wanna come over and watch me, Keller?" Toby purrs.

Mineo turns on the speakers and coughs into the microphone. "Here are tonight's announcements…" He drones, the tinny sound of his voice drowning out conversation.

"Cunt," Toby says loudly.

Keller squeezes his hand once in agreement, and they hold hands loosely, fingers moving lazily, for the rest of the ride.

* * *

**Day 3**

"We're going to introduce a new part of the program and try something a little different today," McManus says.

A chorus of defeated groans greets this proposition.

Mr. McManus continues. "Three pairs at a time will go deeper into the woods behind the school to clean up the area. One of you will carry a walkie-talkie at all times, and the other one will be the one who uses the walkie-talkie at all times. We'll radio out when it's time to come in for lunch and breaks. This exercise is designed to help you open the lines of communication with your partner, and then how to help each other out by working together to achieve mutual success."

Chris leans in from behind Toby. "Dirty," he says, a whisper over Toby's shoulder. Toby stiffens. He'd never admit to thinking the same thing.

McManus drones on. Keller's breath is still warm against Toby's neck, and the fine hairs on his forearms prickle. Some sort of rushing noise in his ears prevents Toby from hearing the rest of McManus' speech, and then the man hands his clipboard to Ms. Howell, limps the few feet to his car, and drives away.

The whole crowd wilts as Howell strides toward them.

"Howler," someone mutters, and Toby stifles a snicker.

"All right, you pieces of crap! McManus might trust you maggots, but I sure as hell don't, so if there is any – and I do mean _any_ kind of problem – that you think will affect your performance of this task, I have three words for you and they are 'get over it'. Because if you make problems, I will be your biggest problem." She levels them all with her icy stare, and nods at Riviera, who doles out three walkie-talkie units, the second one to Chris Keller.

Keller shakes it in Toby's face. "Let's go exploring."

~

Keller sinks down on a fallen tree trunk. "Should be far enough," he says. He scrounges in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled soft pack of cigarettes.

Toby finds a seat on a nearby stump and takes in their surroundings. The woods behind the school are actual _woods_, and he thinks McManus is crazy to let a bunch of hoodlums loose in the forest. The path Keller chose led them through scrubby brush and overhanging limbs that need pruning, but there isn't much to pick up in the way of garbage. Still, Toby's usually obedient when given a task, and he feels guilty for sitting down.

"It's not like they're gonna check our work, Beech. Chill." Keller reads Toby's mind. "There's nothing out here anyway, nothing to see, nothing to do." He lights a cigarette with a thin red lighter, and exhales a cloud of smoke.

Toby decides to enjoy the shade from the trees; it's way better than sweating and burning in the sun. Sliding down off the stump to the forest floor, he pulls off his sweatshirt, balls it up and tucks it behind his head. He closes his eyes and listens to the birds. The smell of Chris's cigarette smoke entices him to breathe deeply, remembering a summer morning from his sophomore year, a happy memory. A soft smile plays on his lips.

Toby opens his eyes slowly. Chris is watching him with a hint of curiosity on his face. Toby's tempted to throw Keller's 'take a picture' line back in his face, but refrains, not wanting to break their tenuous truce. Keller looks like he wants to say something, and then a loud beep and the buzz of static derail any train of thought. Making a face, Keller pulls the unit out of his pocket, starts to toss it to Toby, raises an eyebrow, then gets up, and walks it over.

Toby glares. "I _can_ catch," he grumbles.

"'m sure you can," Keller replies smoothly.

He hands over the walkie-talkie, and Toby radios in. After a few questions to ascertain that they're both still alive, Mineo clicks off.

Nearby, Keller grunts. "Okay, give it back."

"What?" Toby asks.

"I'm supposed to carry it. Give it." Keller holds out his hand.

"Not like they'd know the difference," Toby says. He frowns. "Here."

~

The third call is for lunch, and Toby sits by himself while he eats: Adam is hanging out with a guy covered in tats who he knows from class, and Keller and Barlog are sitting head-to-head again, laughing. The group segregates itself by race, although Toby sees that Goodson Truman eats alone, too, a thick tome laid out on the table in front of him.

Toby expects to have to switch off with another pair for the afternoon, but Mineo appears to be perfectly happy to get rid of them again, and soon he's enjoying the cool shade of the woods once more.

~

The walkie-talkie buzzes, rousing Toby from his nap. He blinks unthinkingly, automatically reaching his arm out to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock, and startles when Keller grabs his hand and yanks him upright.

He's still muzzy with sleep, and Keller's standing in front of him, very close, and he's holding the walkie-talkie up, but he won't let Toby take hold of it.

"Which button?" Keller whispers.

Toby points, his fingers bumping clumsily against the top of the unit.

"Here?" Keller asks.

Toby nods. Why is Keller so close?

"Right here?" Another question.

Toby pushes the button himself, since Keller's determined to be aggravating, even when they're supposed to be in a truce. Keller feathers a light touch across Toby's finger, and Toby croaks into the receiver.

A burst of static crackles from the unit. "Super," Howell says. "Three more hours."

~

They're reduced to amusing themselves, which Toby soon discovers means Keller studying his every move, breath and blink.

Toby turns, sweeping his arm through the air haughtily. "I amuse you? I'm here to fuckin' amuse you?" He delivers his questions in the most old-school gangster voice he can muster.

Keller's eyes widen and he makes a little choked noise like a laugh. He looks away as often as he looks at Toby after that, and Toby's amused that he did something Keller finds interesting.

Toby picks up a piece of crumbling wood and a splinter slides into his finger. "Ow! Shit!"

Standing, he studies his finger and groans. "Shit," he repeats, and looks up. Keller's striding toward him with a determined look on his face, and he's holding a gigantic knife in his fist. Toby stumbles backwards, his escape blocked by a tree trunk. "What the…" he gasps.

Keller angles the Swiss Army knife, showing Toby the blade. "Got a splinter?"

Toby looks at him. After a short pause during which Keller won't meet his eyes, he answers hesitantly, "Yes."

"Where are your work gloves?"

"Over there, _Mother_."

Keller tips his head back and looks down his nose at Toby. He nods, grabs Toby's hand, and scrapes the flat end of the blade over his finger. Squinting, he leans in closer, twisting the knife so the blade is perpendicular to Toby's hand, the tip of the blade scratching out a journey down his fingertip. Again, again, until he coaxes the most of the sliver of wood out, gripping the end with tweezers, the pincers nibbling at Toby's skin.

There's something ridiculous about the situation, and Toby wants to laugh about it: dangerous Keller playing nursemaid. But he doesn't want to draw any attention to himself, because his hand is warm where Keller's touching him, and he's standing very close again, smelling earthy and natural. It _feels_ natural, Toby realizes. It's a good feeling, as if he's safe and he's curious about where it's coming from. Of course he knows the basics – he's liked guys for years, fooled around plenty. But he barely knows Keller, and the feeling is intense. Toby's struck by the realization that Keller's mouth hovers close, lips parted in concentration and he stares at Keller's eyelashes until the knife slides across his skin again.

Gen would be proud, he thinks, and as Keller's extracting the last part of the splinter, Toby lets a minuscule groan escape his lips. Chris's breath hitches, and he doesn't move for a few seconds, and then he finishes his ministrations, but doesn't loosen his grip on Toby's hand. He stares down and Toby thinks that Keller's about to kiss his fingers, and then Keller looks right into his eyes, his gaze covetous and insecure. Toby has the wild idea that they should kiss, but then Chris blinks and his expression is indecipherable.

* * *

**Day 6**

Cold sheets of rain sluice down the windows outside the center, and Toby shivers in his damp clothes. Though his solicitous mother pressed him into wearing several layers and a rain poncho, he hopes they won't have to work outside. Leaning against a wall, he feels awkward and gangly in a way that hasn't cropped up since junior high. He hasn't exchanged words with anyone except Adam, Ronnie, and Chris; everyone's face is familiar, though he endures several unfriendly stares.

Toby doesn't think he can stand an hour-long bus trip sitting next to Keller. He's replayed their kisses repeatedly in his mind, and he's certain that it was all a big mistake. He has to work with this guy for the next two or three months! What the fuck was he thinking? He can't take it back, but he can tell Chris that it was a mistake and that they should- no, shouldn't-. He shakes his head. Anyway, what if Keller's come to his senses too? What if he regrets it, what if it was a joke or a random hookup and Toby's taking it all too seriously? Chris probably didn't give it a second thought, no matter how he'd looked in the moment.

A thin kid in dreads wearing baggy jeans and a brightly striped jacket smiles at Toby with real or imagined pity. Toby smiles back. Mr. Hill, he remembers, but he doesn't know his first name.

Hill joins him in leaning against the wall. "Having fun yet?"

"Time of my life," Toby answers dryly.

They shake hands and introduce themselves, Toby first, then Augustus, who grimaces. "My mom's kinda whacked."

Toby says, "My full name's Tobias. And my little brother's Angus."

A twist of a smile. "I don't feel so bad now, thanks, man. So – how's it working out for you, teamed up with Killer Keller?"

Upon hearing the nickname, Toby feels light-headed. "What?"

"Keller, man." Augustus elbows him lightly. "You don't know?"

"Uh… Ronnie said they stole a car," Toby replies.

Augustus laughs. "Yeah, sure."

Toby waits for him to elaborate, but nothing is forthcoming. "Okay, so what's with the 'killer' part?"

He can see Augustus' gums in the big smile.

"He kills 'em, man. Everywhere he goes. Real ladies' man." The comment is accompanied by an almost imperceptible shrug. "Real _everybody_ man, know what I'm sayin'." He giggles nervously. "Speak of the devil!" Pushing off the wall, he nods to Toby. "See ya."

Toby returns the nod distractedly. He watches Keller and Barlog walk in together, heading straight for Toby. Chris's hair is wet, and streaks of water show on the front of his green windbreaker. Mid-stride, Ronnie turns to Chris to bump fists, and then Keller's next to him, smiling, a muffled 'Hi Toby' as he strips off his wet jacket.

Fuckity fuck, just another notch on Keller's belt. At least he knows, now. He gives Chris a cool, appraising look.

Keller's grin fades and his body stiffens. "What?"

Toby stares at the skin right between Chris's eyebrows. "Augustus apprised me of your nickname." Shifting his gaze, he looks directly into Keller's eyes. "Killer."

It's not the reaction he expects: Chris blushes. Looking down, he stuffs his hands in his back pockets, and scuffs at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. When he speaks, it's to the floor. "That was a long time ago, Toby. Juvie stuff." The blush lessens, and he looks up. "Just a nickname. Had to sound tough, you know?" His mouth moves in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Toby's bewildered. "Juvie?"

"Yeah, I did six months back when I was seventeen. 'S where I met the rest of these lowlifes." He smiles. "Is that why you're so tense? Hill's being an ass, riling up the new kid."

Toby glances over at Augustus, who does appear particularly interested in their conversation. There's a devilish look on his face, but Toby's not entirely convinced.

"You wanna hear something shocking, Toby? Try this on." Chris bends close, speaking into Toby's ear. "I can't wait to kiss you again. That's no secret, right?

"Toby, I want more. I wanna touch you, suck you, make you come. I wanna put your knees over my shoulders and lick you every-fuckin'-where. Open you up, make you beg. I want to hear you cursing my name."

Chris's voice is soft, but Toby hears the words easily, even over his thundering heartbeat. A fine tremor skitters from his feet to his shoulders, and Chris moves that much closer and licks the upper curve of Toby's ear. "You want that?"

"Fuck yes," Toby rasps.

Chris grins. "Good. Me too."

~

It rains all day, and by late afternoon Toby is ready to climb the walls. He's been horny as hell since Keller arrived, and he's nearing his breaking point. McManus doesn't make them work outside in the pouring rain. Instead, they rotate work assignments within the community center. Before lunch, a somewhat coerced, marginally hostile basketball game takes place in the gym.

Wearily, Toby shakes the cool, limp hand of Mr. Rebadow, the elderly librarian who volunteers in the book shelf on Tuesdays. It's possible that they've rearranged the entire library, moving tables, chairs, and boxes of books around the room at the old man's whim. Toby also spends time flirting with Chris, nothing too obvious because of the lack of privacy. Before that, while painting the weight room, Keller talked so much about getting high on the fumes that Riviera made him go sit in the caf and drink a bottle of water.

Toby slips out when Howell leaves for a phone call, and Chris corners him by the soda machine, pushing him back into the crevice between it and the wall. He talks filthy smut into Toby's ear as their hands shove and grope under each other's shirts.

"Touch you, touch you all over. Wanna feel your skin, taste it, lick you." His humid breath puffs against Toby's neck. His fingers move over Toby's nipples. "Make these hard, yeah, suck and tongue them. How you'll look down at me when I'm on my knees opening my throat up for your cock. Hooking your fingers in my mouth and pushing inside." He smothers a groan. "My hand on your stomach, holding you against the wall while I twist my fingers, slow and dirty and catch your come on my tongue and kiss you, kiss you so hard-"

Just as Toby thinks he might explode, Howell and McManus descend on them, the door slamming open in warning early enough for a half-assed re-dress.

Before that, they washed the windows in empty classrooms and Keller accidentally overturned a bucket of clean, warm water on Toby, forcing him to strip off all of his layers, goose bumps chilling across his skin, and wait for McManus to limp to the clothing room and return with a dry shirt. All while Keller ogled him and leered, and touched him at every opportunity. He'd never been the object of that much attention before, not even from Gen.

Before _that_, they moved old, busted up TVs and projectors into the dumpster out back, and then they unloaded a donations truck, lugging the heavy objects indoors. Even divided among all sixteen of them, the monotonous work takes up the whole day. The last task of the day for Toby and Chris is opening the boxes of donations.

"And you're gonna taste so good." Keller picks up where he left off. "I can't wait to taste you. Toby," he laments. "When'm I going to get to kiss you again, Toby?"

He's finally able to catch Keller into the bathroom just before the day's end, and whispers frantically in his ear, watching Chris's eyes glaze over with desire. "Wanna see you on your knees for me, looking up with your big blue eyes. Watch you sucking down my cock, choking on it, you'll look so good, you can't get enough of it." Toby slides his legs around, pressing forward, rocking and rubbing against Keller's thigh. Chris quakes, his knees buckling and Toby pins him in place, leaning hard. "When do I get to see that, huh, Chris? When am I gonna get to see you on your knees?"

Footsteps and the jangle of keys outside the door breaks them apart, and even as Toby's turning the car onto his street he's still thinking about Keller, his body quivering in Toby's arms, and replaying the sound of his groans. After he's parked the car, he sits in the driver's seat, trying to will away his erection before joining the family for dinner.

* * *

**Day 1**

"We call it Yellow Brick Road because, like Dorothy and all of her friends, we expect each person entering the program to undergo a transformation. The scarecrow had to learn to think, and here you will be involved with projects that teach you how to solve problems. Apply that same analogy to each of the other characters, and already you're using your brain, which is more than you were doing when you committed the crimes that brought you here."

Eighteen young men sit in a loose semi-circle, framing Tim McManus, the director of the state's newest rehabilitation program for youth offenders.

McManus continues. "I will be personally supervising each project, but there will be some other people around who will act as your mentors. You will treat them with respect." He shuffles over to the classroom door.

Toby's heard the other guys talking: McManus used to run some experimental program up at the state pen, and then he was taken hostage in a riot a few years ago. He'd been shot twice in the leg, and never regained full use of it.

The door opens, three people walk in, and Mr. McManus introduces them: "Mister Mineo" – a short, compact white-haired guy with a mean look on his face; "Mister Rivera" – a tall Latino with a beard and clear brown eyes; last, a stately woman with a long braid of red hair down her back. The catcalls and whistles drown out her introduction, but Toby, sitting up front, catches her name. Miz Howell. Her blank expression doesn't change, even with all the noise. Like every other guy in the room, Toby checks her out, but she's not his type.

McManus waits until the hollers die down. "Now, our first assignment is out by PS 71. There's a lot of graffiti to be cleaned up, trash to be collected. We'll bus you out there and break for lunch, which is provided. We'll return to the community center by six o'clock each evening. If you didn't wear boots today-" His kind eyes alight on Toby's sneakers pityingly – "you'll want to make sure that you do in the future."

Toby blushes. He's envisioned his community service as a gofer for a judge or at a precinct, and now it's sinking in – long days outside, like in a chain gang, clearing brush, picking up trash, and scrubbing dirty walls. So much for making a good impression with his pressed khaki trousers, pristine white sneaks and polo shirt. Tomorrow he'll wear the grimiest things in his closet.

"I'll be partnering you up," McManus says. "You'll be on the buddy system from now on."

A collective groan rises from the group. Several people roll their eyes, another calls out, "We're not children!"

"Maybe not, but you acted like children, and that's why you're here," Mr. McManus replies smoothly. "Listen to me – if anything happens to your buddy, it's on you. Make sure you keep that in mind." He pulls a sheaf of papers out from his briefcase.

"Okay, let's begin." He begins reading off pairs of names.

Toby zones out; he figures he'll get paired with Adam, and even though he dislikes the kid, at least he's not a stranger.

His eyes dart around the room, sizing up the rest of the young men. There's an eclectic mix of races, and they're all in jeans and t-shirts, reminding Toby how out of place he feels. Even Adam looks scruffy.

His gaze settles briefly on another guy – the sort Gen would refer to as a tall drink of water on a hot and dusty day. He's about Toby's height, with close-cropped, dark hair and dark blue eyes looking out of an angular face. The guy meets his stare with one raised eyebrow, and Toby looks away quickly, his eyes flitting back for a second and catching a smirk on the guy's expressive face.

They bumped into each other earlier, outside the center, when Toby's foot caught on the curb and he practically body-slammed the guy, grabbing hold of his arm, his other hand running down over the guy's flank, fingers perilously close to his ass. It was as though someone else was controlling his arm. The guy immediately shoved him away, and leveled a hard glare at him. "What are you, a fag?"

Toby blushed then, and he's afraid he's blushing now. He'd stammered out an apology, stepping back with his hands raised, palms out in surrender. Adam came up to him then, slinging an arm around his neck, laughing in his ear about slumming. Toby looked back over his shoulder and saw a chubby, dark-haired kid approach the guy and start talking.

Out of all the guys there, he's the one Toby doesn't want to be paired up with; from that short introduction of sorts, Toby already understands the guy's violent, maybe even dangerous. He's probably a career criminal in the making, and definitely someone from whom to steer clear.

"Goodson Truman, Tobias Beecher," McManus says.

Toby looks up when Adam elbows him, and Toby follows his stare over to a black man sitting tall in his seat. Like nearly everyone else there, he's dressed in jeans and boots, but his pressed shirt is long-sleeved, buttoned all the way up, and tucked into his waistband. There are wisps of a goatee on his face, and he has a commanding air of militia about him. His large eyes stare Toby down, and then he raises his hand high in the air, never breaking eye contact.

McManus calls on him. "Yes, Mr. Truman?"

Goodson Truman looks away from Toby. "I cannot possibly be partnered with him."

"Yeah, why not?" McManus asks.

"You are perfectly aware of the requests that my father made," Goodson replies, not blinking.

Rolling his eyes, McManus sighs in exasperation. "Eugene?" He asks.

Riviera steps forward. The two men confer. McManus nods. "Fine, Mr. Truman. You are reassigned to Mr. Hill. Mr. Beecher, let's see…" He runs his finger down a list of names. "How about… Mr. Keller."

He names off the few remaining pairs. "All right everyone, introduce yourself, and get on the bus. You will sit with your partner, so you can get to know one another. Remember, this is the person you'll be working with over the next couple of months, so – get comfortable." He snaps the folder shut.

Mr. Keller? Toby looks around the room. People have split off into their pairings and no one appears to be seeking him out. He sighs.

A voice from behind him. "Mr. _Bee_-cher, I presume."

Whirling around, Toby curses under his breath. Of-fucking-course.

He shakes hands with the guy he'd felt up in the parking lot.

* * *

**Day 4**

Mineo doesn't have a job for them today, and Toby frets until Riviera explains that Friday's Shrink Day. Toby still doesn't get it until they're standing in front of an open classroom door, Keller says, "You first," pushes him through the door and walks away.

It's a chemistry classroom, and his eyes skip to the periodic table chart next to the dry erase board. There's a young, dark-haired woman dressed in gray trousers and a crisp, white shirt swinging her legs from one of the tall stools, and she hops off it and moves to greet him.

"You must be Tobias. I'm Sister Peter Marie. You can call me Pete, or Sister Pete, if that's more comfortable."

"No one said anything about nuns or shrinks," Toby blusters.

She smiles at him. "Where's your partner-in-crime?"

Toby's brow wrinkles. The closest to a partner in crime he has is – "Adam?"

She shakes her head, the soft curls of her ponytail swaying. "Your… buddy?" She consults her clipboard. "Christopher Keller?"

"This isn't a one-on-on session?" Toby's surprised.

"'Fraid not," she responds. "The key here is to get the two of you talking, so you can understand each other, learn from one another. You can be a better citizen, Tobias. I'd bet on it."

While Toby's processing this development – and the slight, the Sister walks out the door and reappears a few seconds later with a leering Keller in tow. He reaches out and strokes his fingers down the length of her ponytail. She stops immediately, whirls around and points her finger at him.

"You will never touch me without my permission." Her eyes are bright and Toby wants to cower from the venom in her voice.

Chris's eyes fall and he drops his chin.

Her tone gentles. "Go to confession, Christopher."

He cracks a tiny, shy smile.

~

It takes what feels like hours to get any kind of conversation going. All of Sister Pete's attempts at breaking the ice are met with smooth, short answers from Keller, and he makes them sound like lies. Toby realizes that Keller's been scoping him out, reading him head to toe and cover to cover during the lengthy bus rides; he hasn't quit watching yet, and there's not much that Toby wants to add that Chris probably hasn't picked up on. He'd never analyze himself in front of a court-appointed shrink anyway.

It clicks for him then: Keller's toying with Sister Pete, giving her just enough information to keep her happy but without really saying anything of substance. It's unnerving that Keller can read people so well, but Toby's impressed. It's a skill he needs to hone if he's going to be incredible in the courtroom.

They talk in circles about Harvard and a construction site that Keller works at, and then their families. It turns out that they both have younger brothers. A quick look passes between them that only an older brother can interpret correctly, and Toby lets a smile tug at his lips.

Pete crosses her legs and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands. "So, gentlemen… girlfriends? Boyfriends? Best friends?"

"Plenty of girls," Keller assures her. "I like to keep my options open."

"Best friend?" Pete prompts.

"Ronnie," Keller replies. "You'll meet him, Sister. We got nabbed together."

She nods. "How about you, Tobias?"

Toby lets the smile wash over his face. "Gen," he says without pause.

Pete smiles at him. "Go on," she encourages, nodding her head.

"I've known her since I was nine," Toby says, affection coloring his tone. "I can't remember life without her. Okay, I can, but I don't want to – she's the most special person in my life. She's my best friend." He smiles down at the table.

Keller makes a rude noise. Startled, Toby looks up. There's a funny look on Keller's face, and his eyes narrow, brow furrowing, as he sweeps his gaze up and down Toby's face, then shrugs. "Sounds like you got wedding bells in your future, Beech." He crosses his arms.

"What?" Toby's taken aback. He looks closer at Chris. "Wedding bells?"

Keller purses his lips. "You love her so much… you should marry her."

Letting loose a surprised laugh, Toby shakes his head. "She's not my girlfriend, Chris. I'm gay." He's been honest for years, and he's not going to hold back now, not even for a minion of the Catholic Church clutching a copy of DSM-IV.

A look of admiration crosses Keller's face in a split second, and then he asks, "Chris? So it's Chris, now?"

"Better than 'Hey Asshole'. Sorry, Sister." Toby tilts his head back. Why's he afraid of Keller? Is he being stupid, should he be frightened? Is Keller a raging homophobe who'd murder him behind the school? Toby can handle himself in a fight, but it's not a skill he actively maintains.

Uncrossing his arms, Keller laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back in his chair, but says nothing. Toby supposes this is the Keller way of making concessions.

"Hobbies?" Sister Pete breaks into Toby's thoughtful silence.

"Uhhh," Toby hedges. "Golf. Sledding. Reading." He lets his gaze wander back to Keller's face. "Paintball."

"Wow," Keller drawls. "_Sledding_. You're an animal."

Toby bites back a retort. "It's quite a workout," he says primly, and immediately wants the words back.

"I bet," Keller says, his tone deadpan, his look knowing. "All that tugging and pulling."

"Yeah, it can get hard. You start to sweat after a while. But the rush is amazing." He pauses to let Keller chew that over, and then asks, "What do you do in your free time that's so awesome?" He grins, sensing that he has the upper hand and liking it.

Keller sits up, running his palms from the back of his skull to his forehead. He leans, his forearms resting on the table, and an arch to his back that wasn't there before. "Music, going to concerts. Bars. Building shit. I like working with my hands." He glances up, and his eyes are hot. He stretches back, still holding Toby's gaze. "I fuck like a god."

Sister Pete's breathing hitches, and Toby's lips part and he licks them unconsciously. Keller stares at Toby's mouth, and then they both look away, and then time's up.

* * *

**Day 8**

Howler got fired yesterday, and currently Toby and Chris are in time-out, which means McManus couldn't think of another word to use on the spot. Instead of sitting in the corner, they're cuffed to a post, and instead of thinking about what Keller did, Toby's listening eagerly to the details.

"Tell me, tell me," he demands.

"I went right up and said, 'Miz Howell, you have the finest ass I've ever seen. What sort of material dares cling to your perfectly shaped buttocks?'" Chris's eyes shine with amusement.

"You did _not_!" Toby breathes, his eyes wide.

Keller shrugs. "She said I was full of shit, and I said I'd rather have my fill of her, and next thing I know we're ducking down behind the bus and man, was she hot for it."

"Perfectly understandable," Toby murmurs, a sly smile on his lips.

Flicking his eyes up, Chris grins. "Then she's ripping open her shirt; she's got these perky nipples starin' straight at me. I'm rubbing her through her pants with one hand and unbuttoning 'em with the other and she starts to yowl, Tobe, swear to Christ, and then she's fucking _kicking_ me. I had to sit on her to get her to stop, and then she thinks we're gonna fuck, and I just wanted to know what her panties look like." He throws Toby a look of unspeakable pain. "I- Toby, she violated me."

Toby bites down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from braying with laughter. "Sure. Poor guy. Mauled by a cougar. Gotta stop sticking your fingers into dark holes, Keller."

"She said I better fuck her and I said no way, and she threatens me, says she can get me kicked outta the program. This bitch is lyin' in the dirt on her back with her pants down, her shirt in her armpits and she's trying to bully me? Fuck that. I told her to get bent." Chris tries to cross his arms, jerks on the cuff, and eyes Toby.

"And that's when you found me?" Toby remembers that part. Chris tackled him onto the wet grass and ran, so he followed, sprinting after Chris, racing into the cover of the trees. Ronnie'd found them soon enough, and he was right – Howler was on a tear, right up until she bumped into McManus. He'd demanded to know what was going on, and she told him that Keller assaulted her… only there were no witnesses and her supposed attacker had a strong alibi. McManus pink slipped her right there, though Keller wasn't entirely off the hook, and Toby also received a reprimand. McManus' idea of punishment was cuffing him to Toby's new favorite person for four hours.

At least the ground's dry and their keeper thought to put them in the shade; much to Keller's delight, it gets them out of the morning's work assignment.

Toby studies the manacle on his wrist, and then shakes his head. "Are they really allowed to do this?"

"What were you expecting, Beech? A spanking?" Chris's forehead wrinkles. "That's the best idea I've had in weeks." His smile's bright and warm.

He continues, "Light blue. A little bow, right-" he touches Toby's stomach under his belly button. "-Here."

~

After lunch, it all goes to hell.

They're clearing piles of rotten wood away from an abandoned building site. The wood is insect-riddled but the logs are still heavy, and Toby has a firm grip on one end while Chris navigates at the other. Maybe it's a misstep, maybe a poorly timed readjustment with his hands, either way, the log slips out of Chris's grasp and Toby overcompensates. The thud of the wood hitting cement muffles the snap of bones.

Toby thinks he might pass out. His vision grays out, sparkles appear before his eyes, and the world tilts suddenly as his knees involuntarily buckle. He falls flat on his back, eyes closed. Somewhere above him, he hears Keller say, "Oh shit, ohshit," as someone slaps his cheek. His eyes pop open, and Mr. McManus's drawn face swims into focus, concern etched across his features.

With supreme effort, Toby sits up and takes four deep breaths, then pretending cool detachment, he looks down at his left arm, which throbs with the most excruciating pain he's ever experienced. Keller's on his knees beside Toby – not _quite_ how he'd envisioned _that_ – with his clasped hands hovering over Toby's wrist. Impatiently, Toby jerks his arm so he can see, and then yelps loudly as a fresh wave of raw pain breaks against him.

"You're white as a ghost," Toby says mildly.

Chris looks up, his face naked and stricken. "Shit, Toby, oh shit."

Toby glances back down at the bones sticking out of his wrist. Better than his guts, he thinks irrationally, giggling. "I'm in shock," he announces. There are more voices, and then he's bodily picked up and dragged into a car; not much else registers until a nurse puts an IV in his arm at the hospital.

* * *

**Ground Zero**

He'd protested, railed against the decision, but the Council had spoken. Take the fall, jump on the grenade, and take one for the team. Or frat, in this case. The Dean of Students expected two contrite, humbled students outside his office door in one day's time, and Phi Sigma Iota rushed to comply. They'd drawn straws. The winners: Tobias Beecher, pre-law, and Adam Guenzel, pre-med.

The Dean frowned at them, then signed his name on several documents and sent them to visit his bridge partner at the club, Judge Grace Lema. It was all very hush-hush. There wasn't even a hearing, just more paperwork and then the Judge leaning over her desk as she glared at Toby.

"Two hundred and fifty hours of community service, young man. Six months' probation. You're getting off easy, Mr. Beecher."

Next to him, Adam snickered childishly. Toby held his ground, locking eyes with the judge. At least it wasn't jail time, he chanted to himself. Not jail time. It would take some explaining at his law school admissions interviews, but the fraternity and the Dean would have his back. He could get his record expunged. Not prison.

Judge Lema continued. "Your service starts in one week, at the Emerald Community Center. I do hope this experience changes your perspective, Mr. Beecher. Perhaps it will even change your life."

* * *

**Day 9**

Toby clocks in at the job site two hours late, because a broken wrist requires a cast _and_ a sling – getting dressed was no easy feat, and driving was a process. Another elementary school getting its walls scrubbed down and sanitized by a bunch of people who are having trouble growing up. He knows he didn't have to come in today, but he doesn't want to wait until Monday to see Chris Keller. Arriving in time for his second meeting with Sister Pete, he's walking down the hall to the assigned classroom when he spots Chris slouched in a chair outside the door, a dour expression on his face. He looks like a kid sent to the principal's office.

He waves, and Keller's up and out of his chair in a blink. They hug briefly, Chris holding him tight for a moment before disengaging, turning it into something casual.

"How you doing?" Keller asks.

"My wrist's broken, so I'll say not so goddamned good," Toby replies, running a light hand down the shoulder strap of the sling. "Hurt like a bitch, but it's cool. I should make everybody sign my cast." He grins wickedly.

"How long're you all trussed up?" Keller raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Toby quells the urge to stick out his tongue. His watch beeps, and he remembers he has to take his pills. They wander down the hall looking for a working water fountain.

Toby reassures him. "I'm fine. A month in the cast, then two weeks in a brace. Hey, maybe we'll get the easy jobs now," he cajoles Keller, whose expression is brooding and grim.

"It's my fault, Toby. I let it happen." Keller grits out the words.

Toby stops walking. "What? No, Chris." He shakes his head. "It was an accident. Shit happens." He starts to shrug, winces, and takes a different tack. "My favorite hand still works fine." He rubs himself through his jeans.

Chris barks out a laugh, and he touches Toby's arm gently. "I wanna see you," he says, and Toby thinks Chris is talking dirty again. But no:

"I wanna see you tomorrow. Hell, I want to see you tonight," Chris says hoarsely. "We can, uh, hang out. Have a round of golf." He smiles. "Get you a helmet and some pads."

Toby socks him in the shoulder. "Fuck you."

Keller sounds affectionate. "Good to see you up and around."

"Yeah? I look good?" Toby flirts.

"Totally fuckable," Chris confirms.

Toby wonders how long they have before their meeting with Sister Pete. A glance at Chris shows he's having the same thought, and the search for a water fountain ends as they hurriedly twist doorknobs, looking for an unlocked room.

~

"Y'know, I never got your number," Keller says as Friday draws to a close and they're returning to the parking lot.

Toby smiles so hard he forgets about the pain pounding through his broken bones for a minute. "Fuck you didn't," he says, laughing.

Chris laughs with him, and then says, "For real, Beecher. I gotta know where to pick you up."

Digging in his pocket, Toby yanks his car keys free and tosses them to Keller. "So drive me home."

Exhausted, Toby stumbles on the gravel, pitching forward. Abruptly, he's jerked up by his right elbow and he shouts when the pain lances through to the left side of his body. When he can stand up without wanting to puke, it's a surprise to see Ronnie on one side.

"You okay, Toby?" Barlog asks, concern showing in his eyes.

Toby's nodding as Keller steps forward and answers for him. "He's fine, thanks."

There's protectiveness in his voice that Ronnie clearly notices, and he moves back, smiling deliberately.

"Glad you're okay, man," he says to Toby, then looks at Keller. "Hey, I'll see you later, right? Kitty's folks are on vacation."

Keller nods. "I'll catch up with you."

The last obstacle between Toby and his car is Mr. McManus, who brings good news about work. They'll still see everyone in the mornings at the center, but while everyone else is bussed to a site, they'll stay on restricted duty in the mailroom, which is basically a closet with a photocopier and a scale. It's a sweet setup.

"Which one's yours?" Keller looks hopefully at the white Camaro parked next to a beat-up blue Volvo. He groans when Toby points to the station wagon. "I'll lose my jizz if I get caught driving this piece of shit," he complains.

"You're gonna lose your jizz one way or another if I have anything to do with it." Toby licks his lips.

~

For once, Toby's glad that the ride is over an hour long. He bickers with Keller about who gets to pick the music, since it's Toby's car, but Keller's driving. Then they disagree about the radio station, and then Chris turns it off completely and they ride in silence for a few miles.

Toby wonders if they'll make it to Kitty's house, or if he's read Chris correctly and they'll wind up making out at the drive-in. He smiles.

Chris puts his hand on Toby's thigh and squeezes. "So where're we headed?"

Toby rattles off the address and Chris nods. "I can do that," he says.

Chris's hand is warm against Toby's leg. He doesn't mean to, but he falls asleep to the calming hum of the engine, knowing he can trust Keller to get them home.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I'd like a story where Toby and Chris are sentenced to hundreds of hours of community service. And I'd love it if it was hate at first sight - due to UST, of course. Chris is all, "Stuck up lawboy!" and Toby is, "Low class thug!" A little angst is good, but I would prefer something lighthearted overall.  
> 


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